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But, I’m at a loss of what to say to my kids. There is all the stuff any good parent says to their kids: “Be kind, be smart, do your homework, treat people with respect, do onto others, be humble, don’t grab women’s pussy’s.” But, it rings hollow now because the guy who just got elected broke all those rules and is being richly rewarded.

for election watch party

Why did women vote for him? You really think he will create jobs Michigan? Why is he building a wall against Canada?

I am proud of Hillary Clinton. She worked so hard. She put up with abuse and ridicule that 99.9% would have crumbled under. She came so very close. She won the popular vote. Last night I had hoped to sit between my mother and daughter and cheer the first ever female president of the US. Instead I held my daughter and niece as they sobbed and my mom had already left saying “I can’t take it.”

my kids helping me make calls for Hillary two days before election

By saying I’m with her I also mean I’m with people of color and immigrants, gays, handicapped, POW’s, my gosh, our Generals! All the people President Elect Game Show host has insulted in his 18 month campaign.

This morning as Vivien cried, “Mommy, what do we do?” I said, “I don’t know.” So, it was all the more helpful when Hillary talked right to her.

“To all the little girls watching…never doubt that you are valuable and powerful & deserving of every chance & opportunity in the world.”

We must keep reminding them this in the face of living in a country which elected a man who boasted about grabbing women’s privates, who condescended to Hillary all the time. In the face of having watched the debates where she was vastly more articulate and informed than him and yet, she will not be the president.

Making history… voting in the morning. Hopeful and wearing white for sufferagettes

I‘m with her means I salute my mom, a life long feminist. I was a little girl when the ERA wasn’t ratified and now, years later… sigh.. same old story. The old white boys club. The FBI, Trump, GOP and some misguided working class people who think he is their champion.

I resent that he is a guy who never did a day of community work in his life. There is commitment to public service. I’m wondering the point of all of mine. I’m discouraged.

I’m with her because I’m not going to be a nice little girl and go away. I’m a proud Nasty Woman and I’m staying that way. History does not run on a smooth trajectory. I know this election is on the wrong side of history, but we are on this zig zag nonetheless.

I’m with her because I’m going to support my daughter and son to be feminists. Who judge a person by the content of their character. Brother, this President Elect is wanting in that department.

Would have been nice instead of talking about polls… that were wrong.. if the media had EVER done a compare and contrast with the candidates policies. But, who am I kidding? It wouldn’t have changed the outcome in a society riddled with sexism and adoring of reality TV.

I was overjoyed that my country elected a man of color in ’08. Yay! My country isn’t as racist as I thought it was. But, it is as sexist as I thought it was. SEXISM RUNS THROUGH ALL COLORS AND CULTURES.

I’m still in shock. A cross between being jilted, a death, a bit of 9/11, of “what world is this?” feeling. But, when I manage to wash my hair again I hope to have a plan. Because a big part of me wants to become a hermit and live deep in Michigan.. if only to vote in the next election.

I’ve always been political. News junkie. First professional job in broadcasting was as a news anchor for a local NPR station. So, I can get heated. But, never before have I felt so personally traumatized. Sure, Bush v. Gore was VERY upsetting,

But, Trumps behavior and millions condoning it has me questioning every relationship with men I have ever had.

You see, like many women I’ve spent my life accommodating the male persona. I’m a feminist, but I’ve still done it. Maybe less than others, but in a world where they are often your boss, or the majority of your co workers, it’s hard not too. From making sure my dad had the seat at the head of the table and a plate of hot food, to nodding politely when some male stranger said something condescending. Well, he is an old guy, he doesn’t mean to demean. From “Smile honey” to bosses who made lewd comments about me or other women I worked with.

something I pasted together

The worst were several males and bosses I worked with in radio in the 90’s. Pigs. I worked with some great, respectful men of all ages. But, hands down the worst were at KGO radio San Francisco. Constant sexual comments. I would smile, and then every few weeks go into an empty studio and cry. I wanted to work in radio. What was I going to do? It was top down at that place. I eventually learned to become like my torturer. When they would say something gross, I’d shoot back , “Yeah, but you have a small dick. So, can I have the AP report now?” It hardened me. I spoke of one incident to a woman superior. She made excuses for the guy, “But, he never touched you, right?” No, he never did. But, I was stuck with him and a guy engineer on a remote broadcast who made everything we spoke of into a way to bring in my body parts. Once I wasn’t working for the station directly, but for a show taped there, it sheltered me a bit. Like an abuse victim I didn’t stand up to any of these men till I saw it being done to a younger woman who had started working there. Unable to defend myself I did tell one guy to not talk to her like that anymore. “I thought it was a compliment?” He said. “No, no woman wants two senior men to her at work to hold up a Victoria’s Secret catalogue and say, ‘Yes, it does look like her.” I couldn’t reprimand the other guy, he was even higher up.

NOT JUST SEXUAL

As I moved onto TV I had all different type of co workers and bosses. MANY who knew were the line was. (Consensual sexual relationships between co workers is fine..albeit later Awkward. ) However, this taking care of the man isn’t just about letting some fat, fart think he has a chance with you. It doesn’t have to take a sexual form to be menacing and manipulative and to keep women from freely expressing themselves and their ideas. How many times have you been in a meeting with a male boss who mansplains you to boredom? Who is detailing something middle management figured out months ago? Who shows you how to do something you already know? Who assumes you do not have what a certain task will take? Who silences you so a man can speak? Who wants endless praise for one idea he has come with? But, most of the time I humor them. Laugh, smile, rag on them later when I’m at happy hour with a co worker. The few times I have protested, I’m alone. So, I back down and I needed the paycheck.

Sorry, guys I probably would have kept doing it, but now that I see this heavy, lurching manness writ large with Donald Trump I’m done. I’m calling it and I’m not going along with it. Trumps intense meanness to Hillary Clinton in the second debate made my stomach hurt. I watched it with others and the men in the room were also upset. “I have to have a drink” one said. It was so tense. In order to get along, Hillary rarely fired back. I get why. It’s NOT a level playing field and she is carrying Bill’s sins on her coat tails. Though I don’t know why when a woman is cheated on and gets angry at the other woman she is an abuser? Couldn’t a woman calling a woman she is angry with be called “locker room talk?” No, because entitled men reserve excuses for themselves and the brotherhood. Pat Robertson and his ilk think it’s fine.

I know there are good guys who don’t even realize their impact on woman sometimes.I t could be from someone who otherwise I think is a lovely person. Maybe a super liberal,don’t matter. They stand too close. their voices are naturally deeper, louder. They think everyone wants to hear what that have to say. I had a boyfriend years ago who was large. 6’7”, 240lbs. He acted very contrite and respectful around women. I was surprised at how gentle this giant was. I asked him about it and he said, “I know my physical size is very intimidating to women and I don’t want them to be scared of me.” He did not abuse his power. Sometimes Mark says something that startles me or Vivien. When we say, “why are you yelling?” He says, “I wasn’t. I’m not even mad.” It’s the timber. The other day at Bombo he came in during my shift and started telling me IN FRONT OF OTHERS about the correct ice to lemonade ratio. I just nodded as I thought screaming “Don’t Mansplain to me” might be bad for business. In a private moment I said, I know this is not what you intended, but here is how that felt to me. He understood.

OUTSIDE OF WORK

The belittling of woman is not confined to the work place. Oh no. It can be from dear people who don’t even know they are doing it. Being who I am I freely express my opinions on all types of topics. One thing both men, and some woman have said when I do this MAKES ME GO NUTS. It’s a line that has a few variations… but it undercuts whatever the speaker has just said. Here it is:

“Daphne, tell us what you really think?” Followed by chuckles. It could also be, “Daphne, go on, tell us what you really think?” Chuckles. Or “You never have to guess what Daphne thinks about something.” Continued chuckles. I have had women do this to me too, usually when we are in the company of men.

Frankly, I don’t know how it’s taken me so long to say, as I recently said to my husband when he did it too!,

When I said “That is so sexist and belittling.” (he got it)

However, I have NEVER heard any gender say that to a man expressing a definite opinion. EVER. If you have ever said this ask yourself, why? Were you uncomfortable with the statement? Was it controversial? Because if it was a hot button issue one could say instead, “I appreciate you feel really strongly about this, I just don’t want to create any friction on a night I thought we were going to do Jager shots out of hose.” But, if it’s not something like, oh, where does life began, but perhaps a well articulated critique of a popular author, why say it?

The saying is the personal is the political. It certainly is here. I remember in ’08 thinking, yeah I guess I’ll vote for Hillary, but I’m not getting in a later about it. Then in a primary debate Obama dismissed her with “You are likable enough, Hillary.” She smiled and took it. I was a plane for Texas helping her campaign win the caucus.

Yes, I usually vote Democratic. But, I’m pining for the days of Romney, McCain, even W. They would have competed against Hillary Clinton strongly. They would have made powerful arguments for their conservative vision. They would have pointed out were they think her policies were flawed or not executed. Good for them. They would not have stalked her in a debate using their physique to intimidate her. They would not have commented on faces and body parts of a female competitor. I already abhorred Trump for his lack of intellect, his reality show pedigree, his race baiting, his hostility to anyone who doesn’t look like him, his insults to Gold Star families and POW’s. I also do not like how he has advanced the coarsening of our societies dialogue.

I have sometimes placated and tolerated men with a sense of entitlement, humored them. But, I’m not doing it anymore. Thank Donald Trump.

We aren’t big camp people. I never went to overnight camp because my parents were afraid of child molesters and mosquito bites. Vivien has given me the evil eye, “I’m so not happy with you mommy” stare when I’ve pushed her to go to camp. The big assemblies and rah, rah, “We are the Mighty Turtles!” cheers shut her down. While I see a fun day of crafts, and waterplay she sees an over earnest intrusion into her psyche. Both can be correct.

popsicles made from the garden

But, last year a friend told us about the garden camp. It combined two of my favorite things: nature and old parts of LA that posers who live in Brentwood or dine on Sunset blvd wouldn’t be caught dead in. Correction, they don’t even know these areas exist. You see The Garden School Foundation started about 11 years ago to educate Title 1 kids (ie, low income) kids about nature, nutrition, and wearing floppy sunhats. In the West Adams district of LA, an area famous for beautiful Craftsman homes and the evisceration of LA’s upper class African Americans when the 10 freeway plowed through it’s neighborhood in the 1960’s, sits the 24th street school. A typical LA unified asphalt covered elementary school. But, there is a hidden part! A big one. A 2 acre garden in the back of the school that abuts the 10 freeway. It is an oasis in the urban jungle. A drink of water in a concrete desert. A snow ball in the desert.

One of my favorite things to this burnt out mom is that you do NOT send them with snack or lunch. They eat from the garden. My kids ate salad every day and liked it. They came home excited to try recipes. Rex has tried to make a few things since he went. Do I have to spend 30 minutes cleaning after he does so? Yes, but at least he is trying!

sweet garden teacher

Vivien even liked it because the groups were small, there was no assembly or cheering. Plus they are OUTSIDE all day. OUTSIDE around pretty green things, not the outside of their school in Hollywood with homeless, smells of pot and obnoxious billboards.

“I wish school was like this” said Rex. I wish life was like this. I could sit in that meandering, folk art strewn garden for hours, even if the hum of the 10 murmurs nearby.

Anyone who knows me my credo is “I’m married, not dead.” Yes, I’ve gone years in the most unattractive cargo like pants, stains on my shirt as my haggered face drops my kids off at school, having not YET had a shower. But, sometimes.. and more lately as my kids get older I remember THIS ( touching my body) is MINE!! I forgot about it.

So, whether it’s at a school function, at a park or a soccer game I’m not just thinking about my kids.

It happens every June… I’m burnt out on volunteering at my kid’s school. Also, I volunteer other places, but knowing Summer is in sight, that I’ve almost reached the mountain top makes me want to run screaming from the campus.

Also, Vivien is graduating from Elementary school and for months I’ve been part of a group putting that shing ding together. I retired from beautification after 5 years, but got pulled back on fundraiser party committee, but the one thing I’m bound and determined to not do next year: serve hot lunch. Here is a video I did the first time I did it when Vivien was in kindergarten.

I need to do the update… I’m a veteran now. I know what to do and which kids are going to be picky and which ones stare at the sky while I repeat, “do you want apples? Do you want apples? I said, Do you WANT APPLES?” Sweeping the smashed food under the tables. Ending the shift and realizing I only have 90 minutes before pick up.

4 days after surgery (photos nicely done by http://www.nylaportraits.com/)

I had an eye job. Let’s get that straight right from the start. I wasn’t beaten by my husband or in a car accident. I get that you might wince or feel empathetic pain looking at these photos but when they were taken a few days after my surgery I felt fine. A little tired from the pain meds, but considering I had my face cut open, pretty good.

could have been in season 3 of Daphne Dishes!

I had been thinking about doing this for a while. I can see dwindling collagen and gravity were altering a few things on my face… and other places. Finding out my show wasn’t renewed seemed like a good time. Don’t need to be in front of the camera’s any time soon. I’m not going to apologize or feel I have to justify it. In the grand scheme of things it’s not such a big deal. In an age of self transformation from multiple piercing to transgender, who really cares about a middle aged lady fixing a saggy eyelid?

Yet, when women do it ( and men too) they hide. Why? I’m greatly influenced by my brief time living in Miami. Miami is populated with lots of South Americans. Maybe because Brazil is in the top 10 of countries with plastic surgery ( South Korea is number one) Or maybe because Miami is a city you can reinvent yourself, but people walk around with some bruising. People say, “oh, did you get the fat pocket surgery? I’m thinking of doing that.” It’s no big deal.

Why not be open? People will judge me for it, but I judge the sloppy dressed lady behind me at the supermarket. I cringe at pierced septums, I fixate on mucus hanging from their hoop when they have a cold. I’m startled when I see a neck tattoo. So judge away.

While these pictures are a bit alarming I’m glad we took them because by the next day a lot of the bruising had receded. Moms at school would remark, “It’s really gone down.” and “I’ve never seen anyone out after surgery, everybody hides.” I’m outspoken and honest to a fault. It’s gotten me in trouble. A lot. But, the flip side is this is my authentic self. When my friend Cheryl sent me the photos she took she said, “they are vulnerable and funny, like you.” I think it’s why comedy resonates with me. I’ll make fun of myself before you can. Funny people are famously a bit dark. Yep. Think that’s true. See my mangled face! Bwahhh.

The question I get asked the most is ,”Did it hurt?” A bit, but not much. I did it without general anesthesia. Partly because I find recovering from that difficult, and partly because not doing it saved me $2,500. I took two xanaxs, a vicodin, an antibiotic and a few minutes later as I was getting woozy my doctor started shooting me up with lidocaine around my eyes. That kinda hurt, about like a botox shot feels on your forehead. That was maybe 30 seconds, then I fell asleep. When I woke up my husband was there ( I took a cab solo to the procedure, no use someone waiting around). That was when I had the most pain. I felt throbbing soreness around my eyes. They gave me a pain pill and by the time I was in our car I felt nothing. I slept propped up and my husband dutifully woke me up every 4 hours to give me the meds so I could stay ahead of the pain. He also woke me up at dinner time to give me a bowl of homemade Carbonara pasta. My favorite! “Hmm, this is good.” I ate a small bowl and passed out again. By the next day I was feeling better.

Now, it’s not without problems. Mostly because I’m taking an opiate for pain and I went cold turkey one day. At that point the pain could be controlled with a little Advil, but I started to slip into Kurt Cobain like depression. I called my husband who said, “Go take a half pill, you have to wean yourself.” Which I did over the next few days. Between the surgery and pills I was a bit more emotional than normal.

I’m bruised, but still your wacky mom

I had prepped my kids that I was going to look like Frankenstein when I got home. They were fascinated to see the stitches on my eyelids. They are pretty grizzly looking at first. The lower lids were artfully stitched up on my lash line so they were unrecognizable. The uppers, yikes! My kids liked helping with my cold compresses the first few days, and later the warm ones. They let me sleep the first two days. Then they wanted mom on the go again bruised or not. Kids roll with it.

call me crazy, but I love this picture

I hear, “ I didn’t think you needed this.” Well, thanks friend/family/dude at gas station. That’s kinder than saying “I wondered when you were going to tighten that up!” But, I didn’t do it for anyone else. I did it for me. My own selfish, self centered, vain self. It got to the point that when I put on liquid eye liner on my top lid it would end up near my eyebrows as my drooping lid would fall and catch it. When I smiled a ridge of flesh like a caterpillar was forming under my eyes, especially my right one. It bugged me. So, the doctor removed some skin at the bottom and artfully stitched me up on my lower lash line. Very well done. Harder and longer to heal is the upper lids. A month later all bruising is gone, but I still have flesh bumps on my lid where the stitches were. They say it can take 6 months for the swelling to completely go away and for it to settle. I hope so, because of after the hassle and expense of this I do want to look refreshed. That’s why I thought I needed this.

I get the resistance, but I didn’t think that pretty girl at the sandwich shop should have put that large tattoo on her shoulder and gauges in her ears, but she didn’t ask me.

no make up?, that’s just the start

Don’t worry I tell friends, I’m not going to become the cat lady and change the plane of my face and have puffy lips. At some point, I will go gently into the aging process, a lineless 80 year old might be unnerving. But for right now I just want to look a smidge more like the lady I’ve been staring at for years. I’m not justifying, I’m explaining and I want to support anyone who has done this or wants to. If you saved your acorns to do it, good for you. We all have our reasons, and they are our own.

I keep thinking, well I USED to be on Food Network. but, guess I’m still on cause my episode Sum Sum Summertime is on tomorrow. It’s got some tasty stuff on it. Chorizo sliders, fish tacos… rock it!! All recipes HERE

But, since I NOT filming new shows…right now, something else is cooking.. so to speak. Me.

If this light was always on my I wouldn’t have needed an eye job. And by “need” I mean want.

I’m laying low.. literally I am finally getting my long awaited eye job! I’ve been wanting one for a long time and I’m not going to that BS of disappearing for two weeks and everyone says, “did you get bangs? What’s different?” I’ve been saving my acorns for this for a while and it’s a big middle-aged present to myself. But, I will not be laying low for long. Oh, no. I’m not hiding. Just resting.

So, I’m feeling all Brian Wilson, on my back, on pain killers while my Chef husband hand feeds me home made pasta Carbonara ( for reals). I’m feeling like maybe I’ll get my own pet sounds out of this. Need to shut my eyes and rest, but soon enough I’ll show it all to you Fuchsia bruises and all!

As much as I hate when skinny celebs say “yes, I eat burritos and ice cream”, I’m not going lie about this. Don’t worry, I’m not going to get all fish lips, change the planes of my face, just got a little “redundant skin” that has been bugging me on my lids and a bit of “crepe” under. I know gravity is not going to make better. NO cheek implants, no over arched eyebrows. But let’s say I did go all Mickey Rourke, whose to call it? You know what, gender reassignment, tattoos, piercing, hair extension where is the limit? Body as art, body as self-expression? Or maybe just as simple as mom who recently discovered her own body, her own sexual self and is tossing out the granny gowns and doing something for herself.

Dear everyone who has ever been nice to me. Last week I found out that Daphne Dishes is NOT getting a 3rd season on Food Network. I am, of course, super bummed. The ratings were good, but the daytime programming is very competitive, tight on their schedule. They have been very kind and say they would like to find another place for me, but it won’t be this show.

Setting up a shot

I loved working with everyone on the show. I can’t say it was a dream come true because I never would have that that 1) Food Network would ask me to do my own show 2) it was my own show 3) I could do it from my OWN home with with my Own kids. I’m very grateful for the opportunity.

working with my kids was the best

I worked really hard on the recipes and tried to give it my best even though I shot most of the episodes when I was either reeling from my brother’s suicide ( season 1) or done in by C diff ( season 2). Craig Anderson at Concentric was more than a producer, but a dear family friend. The whole crew was.

Craig directs the kids

David, food stylist, a sweetie and also works on Pioneer Woman’s show.

My first priority was making sure my kids were well taken care of and they were. Even when I was in NYC last year and met with the heads of the network and Harriet Siew who found me ( Thanks Harriet). Rex and Vivien were with me and they were giving them things to take and play with. Everyone should feel so welcome with their kids in a workplace!

such pros!

I would have loved to tell more funny stories, to make more food,

my pea soup

to impart more things I’ve learned as a home chef with some professional experience and influence, and a very supportive chef husband!